Virginia: the Old Dominion eBook

And yet, the gentlest marker of time must mark.
It may mark very softly those passing moments of life’s
lessening span; but when we come to look again, the
shadow has moved on. Nor can childish interference
avail. Spread your rebellious hands upon the dial;
you shall only see the shadow come stealing through
your fingers. Stand defiantly in the path of
the sunlight, and blot out the telltale dial shadow
with your own; it but waits until you step aside,
then leaps across the moments you have wasted.
Not for you shall the boon to the sick and penitent
King of Judah be repeated; not for you shall the shadow
turn backward on the sun-dial of Ahaz.

CHAPTER XXI

AN UNDERGROUND MYSTERY AND A DUCKING-STOOL

For a day or two Gadabout lay out in the James in
front of Westover. One evening it turned cold
and a strong wind set in, coming straight at us across
the river. As usual, when Gadabout was anchored
on a stormy night near a lee shore, we cast a lead
out ahead, so as to be able to tell (after it should
become too dark to see the land) whether or not we
were dragging anchor.

That is, we called it casting a lead, though in reality
the process consisted in throwing out into the river
(as far ahead of us as we could) a piece of old iron
with a string tied to it. Then, at any time,
by gathering up the loose end of the string that lay
in the cockpit, one could detect by the outgo of the
line any tendency on the part of Gadabout to run away
with her anchor. It was a very simple device and
not exactly original, having doubtless been used a
little earlier by Christopher Columbus and Noah and
those people. But we never permitted any question
of priority to dampen our interest in the thing.

As the evening wore on the storm held steadily; steadily
and rapidly the barometer kept counting backward;
and we took the river’s width in wind and sea
for half the night. We could not sleep, and sat
bolstered up in our chairs. The Commodore quite
likely did breathe audibly now and then; but Nautica
was wide awake, as shown by her announcing with feeling
and frequency that “she knew we were dragging
anchor and were just about to be horribly wrecked
upon rocks or ‘stobs’ or something or
other.”

The Commodore arose and busied himself about cockpit
and cabin mysteriously. When he finished his
labours, the string from the piece of iron out in
the river came into the cabin through a hole in the
wall made for an engine bell cord. It ran along
the ceiling to the after end of the cabin, where a
weight kept it taut. A handkerchief that could
be plainly seen even in the dim light, was fastened
to the string just where it passed above Nautica’s
head. By this time, the Commodore’s mystery
was a mystery no longer; and Nautica was laughing.

“So that is to put an end to all my anxieties,
is it?”

“Just so,” said the Commodore. “When
that anxious feeling comes, watch the handkerchief.
If it is moving toward the door, you may know that
your fears are better grounded than the anchors; but
if it is not, try to get a wink of sleep.”